


Whatever Happens, Happens

by Lunaraven0



Category: Homestuck, 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Alpha Timeline (Homestuck), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack Crossover, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Seven Year Gap (Gyakuten Saiban)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:20:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23639740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunaraven0/pseuds/Lunaraven0
Summary: In a crossover universe where 99% of the Homestuck canon has been tossed out, 27-year-old Dave Strider has moved to LA with his recently acquired little bro, Dirk.At some point, Dirk sees the Borscht Bowl Club on a map and decides he absolutely must go there to ask what a 'borscht' is.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	Whatever Happens, Happens

**Author's Note:**

> It's Homestuck day and I wanted to do something, and Ace Attorney is my current obsession, so now Phoenix and Dave are friends because I said so.

Dave had only been a dad for a year and it was already giving him grey hairs. Grey hairs!! At 27!

Well, legally speaking he was a dad, but 7-year-old Dirk insisted on calling him "Bro" and nothing would convince him to do otherwise.

They'd only moved out to LA a few weeks ago. Dave was becoming more well known in the professional shitpost circles, he needed to be here. It was incredibly different from Texas; Dave couldn't help but feel off-balance. Dirk seemed to be handling it okay, but it was hard to tell. He hardly talked, unless he was hungry or the subject was samurais or swords.

Fortunately, today was the first Saturday that Dave wasn't busy with work, so he could take Dirk out to explore.

Unfortunately, the first place he picked was the shadiest looking club Dave had ever seen: the Borscht Bowl Club.

"Is there, uh, any particular reason you want to go there?"

"I wanna ask 'em what a 'borscht' is."

One Google search told Dave that it was some kind of Russian soup, but he didn't say anything. Maybe they served it there? It'd be a good learning experience for him.

A bell rang as Dave opened the door. The blast of air conditioning gave him goosebumps. The club looked...well, like a club. There were booths by the windows, tables, a bar, a dance floor situated a little ways away, an entire piano, the whole 9 yards.

He was almost convinced he was wrong about how shady it was until the customers started staring at him. He froze as they looked him up and down, probably judging how harmless he was or wasn't to them.

Dirk didn't acknowledge any of it in the slightest and made a beeline for the only grown-up that wasn't staring: the guy at the piano. Dave followed him, grateful for the distraction.

He didn't look like a pianist, but maybe that was the point. Grey sweats and a bright blue beanie that said "Papa" on bright pink was an odd aesthetic, and didn't quite fit with the rest of the place, but Dave's work was mostly just that: odd aesthetics that don't quite fit. 

The guy must've heard Dirk running up to him because he stopped playing whatever sad tune he was and turned toward him.

"Oh, hel-"

"What's a borscht????"

Piano Guy blinked. He glanced at Dave.

Dave just shrugged.

Piano Guy smiled. "Well, it's a Russian kind of soup that's usually made with beetroots."

"Oh. Does that mean that this is a Russian club?"

"The people who own it are Russian, so yeah."

"Do they have borscht here or did they just name it that because it's fun to say?"

Piano Guy chuckled. "Yes, they make borscht here. You are right about it being fun to say, though."

Dirk grinned. "Okay! Thank you!" He marched back over to Dave, apparently satisfied.

Piano Guy smiled, then looked up at Dave. Something about his brown and blue eyes seemed to dig into Dave's soul. "Is that all you came here for, or...?"

Dave adjusted his sunglasses nervously. "We moved out here a few weeks ago, and this is my first proper day off. I promised to explore the neighborhood with him and that he could pick the first place to go. He mostly wanted to ask what borscht was. This wasn't so bad, right?"

"You were more scared than I was, Bro."

"There was a _hole_ in the _window_."

"That was an internet picture; those lie all the time. And there's not one _now_."

"...you have a point."

"Can we come back here for lunch time? I want borscht."

"The borscht is _really_ good." Piano Guy said.

They were twisting his arm. His arm didn't need much twisting, but they were doing it anyway.

Dave sighed dramatically, putting a hand to his face like this was such a reluctant decision. "Oh, you've roped me into it! I guess we can go here for lunch!" He winked and Dirk giggled.

"Yay!"

~

Phoenix watched the two leave from his spot on the piano bench. The kid's older brother(?) hadn't lied about why they were there, so he was probably trustworthy.

Trucy came bounding over, and sat on the bench next to him. "Who 'twas that you were talking to?"

Phoenix didn't remember when she had started saying "twas" but he couldn't wait for her to stop. He wasn't going to say that out loud though.

"Just some new folks. Is that kid in your school?"

She pondered this, tapping her chin. "I think so, but he's not in my grade."

"Ah."

"Anyway! Do you wanna see my new trick!? I finally figured out how to make it work!!"

"Really? Let's see it then."

Phoenix watched as she made two decks of cards move from hand to hand, change color, and shuffle themselves into one big deck in a blink.

She was so talented. Phoenix had never been more proud of anything ever in his life.

~

Breaking up bar fights wasn't an official part of his job at the Borscht Bowl Club, but Phoenix did it anyway. The usual suspects were more likely to listen to him than the waiters, and they had enough work as it was.

He shoved his way into the current situation, pushing them apart in one swift motion. He kept one hand on each of their chests. "So, what's the problem today, fellas?"

The one on his left scowled. "This ain't your problem, Wright."

"You interrupted my daughter's magic practice with how loud you were. It's my problem now."

The one on his right scowled too. "Oh yeah? In that case, tell Staniel here to pay up what he owes."

Staniel balled his fists. "I don't owe you nothing, Jimothy! That's not what the contract said!"

Phoenix frowned. "What contract?"

Jimothy took out a piece of paper and shoved it in his face. "This one, pal. I may just be the messenger, but I know how to read! Unlike this fool!"

" _Why you_ -"

"Hey! Shut up!" Phoenix looked over the paper. "...this signature is fake."

Jimothy blanched. "Wh-what!?"

"It's a stamp, see? Your boss must've made it to try to get money out of Staniel here." He turned to Staniel. "You should have a talk with that guy, see if it gets you anywhere. If it doesn't," He handed Staniel a business card for Edgeworth Law Offices, "they can help."

The two men left the club, slightly bewildered, and most importantly, not fighting. Phoenix watched them leave, turned around-

"Holy crap you're like a samurai but with words instead of swords!!!"

The kid from earlier was sitting at one of the many tables. He was wide-eyed, staring at Phoenix with admiration. The kid's older brother had this look on his face that was a mix of embarrassment and fondness.

"I-it was nothing. I just wanted to help, that's all."

"Don't sell yourself short, Daddy!" Trucy suddenly attached herself to his arm. "You're just as cool as every samurai I've ever known."

"But you've only ever known the Steel Samurai."

"And you're just as cool as him!! You're both really smart, you're both really nice to people, you both like fighting for the truth-"

The kid jumped out of his chair. "You like the Steel Samurai too?? Everyone at school keeps saying its old news!"

"Yeah, well, they don't know what they're missing!"

The two of them sat down on the floor and started talking about the Steel Samurai in earnest, basically forgetting about the rest of the world.

Phoenix sighed in defeat, and sat down in one of the empty chairs.

"So. What's your name?"

He held out a hand. "Strider. Dave Strider."

After a moment's hesitation, he took it. "Wright. Phoenix Wright."


End file.
